


Two Dwarves, One Dude

by mithmitch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-02 03:51:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithmitch/pseuds/mithmitch
Summary: Wrote these one day and decided, fuck it, no harm in posting it





	1. Chapter 1

“That’s quite the tattoo, Rose.”

Garrett smiled at the nickname. “That’s quite the name, Varric.”

A mischievous smirk crossed Varric’s face. “Well, you see about as much business as the Blooming Rose back home, so…”

Garrett threw his head back and laughed. “Not business if your not paid, salroka.” He chuckled. “But the tattoo, yeah, it’s quite the thing.” And it was. A large tree that started just above his elbow, branching out across his shoulder, reaching across his chest, back, and up his neck. The roots of the tree wrapped around his forearm and all met an acorn or something of the sort on the back of his hand. Dark green leaves sprouted from the dark brown ink, while all sorts of flowers bloomed along the edges. The rose just below his ear had also added to the nickname. “My little sister and brother adored flowers, and they saw my other tattoos and decided that my left arm was entirely too blank.” Garrett's eyes seemed to glow from the memories. “They pestered my uncle into doing it, and he grumbled the entire time, but nobody can say no to them.”

Varric chuckled, “Yeah, I know a person like that.” He leaned in closer. “Other tattoos?”

“Yeah, besides this little thing,” he gestured to a more geometric tattoo that encompassed his entire left forearm, “I’ve got some others.” He smirked. “Care to see?”

“I’m sure the tavern would love it.”

Garrett let out a full belly laugh, before standing up and stripping of his tunic. As he threw it to the side, he caught the bartender’s eye and winked.  
Varric watched with amusement. It was well known that the new Inquisitor had a long list of people that had fallen into bed with him. Servants, soldiers, visiting nobles, even some Qunari mercenaries. The tanned skin and chiseled face made for a handsome face, the narrow green eyes made for an intense look of pure seduction, the close cropped blonde hair, stubble, and piercings on his ears and one on his eyebrow completed the look of a dangerous rogue. And the tattoos added to the mystique of him. But he was an open and somewhat naive guy. Having not even seen twenty winters, he was the youngest of the inner circle, and it showed.

Garrett’s rough and slightly high pitched voice drew Varric back to the tavern. He was gesturing to the dwarven and elven script across his right hip.  
“Lantos did this for me while I was piss drunk. Pretty sure it’s some shit about ducks being ducks even without claws, dunno, can’t read the elvish bits.” He turned around and patted his right shoulder. “The names on the back there are my brother, sister, and my da.” He made a vague gesture to his face, “You recognize this one.” The casteless brand was unmistakable. Garrett turned around to show his back, which had a pine forest landscape across his lower back. “That’s a pretty picture, I liked it.” He shrugged, looked around the table, then shrugged again and sat back down. “And now you know my darkest secrets.”

Varric chuckled, “If those are your darkest secrets you might be the most virtuous man here.”


	2. Chapter 2

Commander Cullen sighed as he entered his office. It had been a stressful day. More recruits, a fight in the upper ranks, and even more delayed supplies. With the addition of the withdrawal, the headache forming was monumental.  
“Hullo, Commander.”  
Cullen spun, and sighed at the sight of Inquisitor Cadash seated on the floor by the door.  
“Inquisitor, I- what are you doing here?” The Inquisitor was known to wander the fortress late into the evening, but he usually stopped visiting his advisors well before sunset.  
“I’m hoping to run an idea by you.” The dwarf stood slowly, teetering slightly.  
Cullen narrowed his eyes, “Are you drunk?”  
Garrett blinked at him, “Course not.” He slowly walked to Cullen’s desk and leaned against it. “You should be Inquisitor.”  
Cullen blinked, stared, and nervously chuckled. “You are very drunk, I think it’s about time you retired for the night.”  
Garretts eyes narrowed. “Aight, I’m a little tipsy, but I know pretty fuckin’ well what I’m saying. You should be Inquisitor.”  
“And what brought on this idea, Inquisitor?”  
“You wouldn’t get them killed.”  
Cullen blinked again, and sighed. “Who’s them, Cadash?”  
Garrett gestured angrily out the door. “Them. The people depending on me to not get them killed, the ones I’m failing at not getting, killed…” He shook his head. “You get what I mean!”  
Cullen observed the drunk dwarf. His eyes were bleary, yet still sharp and aware, and grief and guilt and anger all seemed to shine through his face. It was a jarring change from the calm rogue that usually serenaded the servants with bawdy tavern songs. Cullen thought of all the recent battles, battles that they had won. There were casualties, and his heart ached at the thought, but it was to be expected. Anyone with any experience-. And it struck Cullen. Someone of Garrett’s age wouldn’t have experience with battle. Carta business differed greatly from honest to god battle. The Commander sighed and met Garrett’s eyes. “They signed up to fight. This is what they volunteered for. It is through no fault of your own that lives are lost. This is war.”  
The grief seemed to break Garrett in half. “Then how do I stop them from asking for this? How do I get them to go home? How do I get them to save themselves?”   
The dwarf’s youth had never been more apparent. Cullen felt a surge of sadness that one who was barely even considered an adult had to suffer through the pain of leadership. “You don’t. All you can do is lead them the best you can, and try not to let their sacrifices go to waste.”  
Garrett Cadash stared up at him, before nodding and dropping his head. The sigh was barely heard. “I understand.”  
Cullen nodded, “If I may, what made you come to me with this?”  
The response was quiet, “Dunno, leadership, something this big, I figured you would know best about it, cause the Templars an’ all…” He straightened, and nodded to Cullen, “Thanks for the talk, salroka.”


	3. Chapter 3

“That’s a box, Monty.”  
Josephine Montilyet sighed. Ever since she had heard news of the boxed remains of Duchess Florianne coming to Skyhold to be judged, she had gained a monstrous headache that refused to abate. The source of it was sitting on the throne, stifling his giggles like a maker forsaken child.  
“I am fully aware of that fact, Inquisitor.” Josephine sighed. “Just please judge the remains.” This was going to go terribly.  
Garrett Cadash cackled as he rolled around on the throne like a maker forsaken child. “What’s wrong Florianne? You’re looking a little, boxed in!” The Inquisitor of the Inquisition of the Dragon Age wheezed as he hunched over in his throne.  
Visiting nobles and dignitaries all looked up at the most powerful man in Thedas in confusion, as some staff sighed, and others stifled their giggles.  
This went on for well over a half hour, Garrett making box related puns, then nearly dying from laughter at his own genius. Josephine felt the headache increase.  
“Inquisitor, please…”  
Garrett kept chuckling but finally gave his sentence. “Rehabilitation! The skull shall do public theatre about the evils of evil.” The cackling continued.  
Well, that wasn’t as bad as Josephine thou-  
“I also judge the box!” Oh no. “End table for orphans!” Oh maker no. The resulting wave of laughter from the four and a half foot dwarf could have leveled a small village.


	4. Chapter 4

Leliana watched as the Inquisition planned it’s escape from Haven, Chancellor Roderick’s knowledge and the willpower of the people driving them. But The Elder One would come for them. She knew that. They all knew that. It wanted the Herald.   
Leliana turned her eyes to the aforementioned Herald. Bruised and bloody, standing tall by the doors. He was unusually silent. He watched the people. His shoulders collapsed. His chin fell. From her place hidden behind the pillars, she couldn’t hear the shaking breath that escaped his mouth, but she saw the way it wracked his chest, the way he closed his eyes tight. The hopelessness was getting to him. They were dead, and he seemed to know it.   
A short life of the Inquisition, Leliana mused. Barely begun, barely beginning to gain strength, and here they were, about to be slaughtered like sheep in a pen by a nameless adversary. It would seem- a movement drew Leliana’s eyes.   
The Herald was standing tall, determined, as if possessed by some new purpose. He strode up to Cullen.  
:’Get everybody out. Get above the treeline, and send a flare.’ He commanded. Cullen gaped for a small moment, seemingly shocked by the dwarf’s leadership. But before he could ask what Cadash was planning, the rogue was walking away. He pulled a sword from a soldier’s sheath. The voices of the Inner Circle had no affect on his stride. He paused at the door, cracked his neck, pushed the doors open and ran with a battle cry. A flash of red was all the fledgling Inquisition saw before the heavy oak slammed shut.


	5. Chapter 5

Varric was running. After delivering the news of the white lilies being given to Hawke’s mother, and being sent to round up everybody else, it felt like too much time had passed. Hawke had probably wandered in to nest of demons and mages and gotten himself kille-. Varric shook his head. ‘Hawke’s too proud to die.’ He thought. He glanced around at the assortment of people ready to enter the warehouse. Merrill, Fenris, and Aveline all looked calm and ready. Anders and Sebastian looked slightly anxious. And Isabela looked, for lack of a better word, worried.  
Varric sighed, hefted Bianca, and nodded. Aveline opened the door, and they all made their way inside, ready to fight.  
The sight that greeted them was unexpected. Corpses. Demon corpses. Savagely beaten and hacked apart. The work of a madman. As they made their way, it only got worse. Blood spattered the walls, knicks in the walls where his greatsword swung clear through his enemies. And more blood. Human blood. Bits of armor began to appear more and more often. All from the same set. James’ set.   
A scream sounded from deeper in the building. Eerily reminiscent of a Rage Demon, or Despair, there was something hauntingly familiar and human about it. They all moved a little faster after that.   
It was a bloodbath. Demons were dead, the room was destroyed, there were burning fires. And in the middle of it all, James Hawke. Tan skin covered in demon guts and blood, long blonde hair loose and swinging around his face, armor almost completely stripped away, leaving nothing but a light gambeson. And he was beating the shit out of a an older man. A mage by the look of his robes. Fenris and Aveline rushed forward to pull him off, but James wasn’t letting up easy. He was kicking and screaming, throwing his fists wildy, bloodied face contorted in an inhuman expression of rage. He shook the warriors off and dove for the feeble mage, crawling away. James drove his knee in the mage’s back, before grabbing his head and slamming forward onto the cold stone. It was possibly the most feral and terrifying thing Varric had ever seen.  
“Jamie…’ A corpse. A fucking corpse with the face of Leandra Hawke was shuffling towards the brutal display.  
James’ head whipped around, his snarl being replaced by the look of a lost and grieving child. ‘Mama…’ He rushed forward to catch his… mother? Before it fell to the ground. As he lowered it down, it reached up to cup his cheek.  
“So grown up… you’ve changed so much.” it sighed.  
James’ seemed to break a little bit more. “I’m sorry mama, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry I couldn’t save Bethany, I’m sorry I couldn’t save Carver, I’m sorry I couldn’t save papa.” Deep, wracking sobs echoed through the room, as tears streamed down his face, and his words descended into a quiet stream of ‘I’m sorry’’s.   
The corpse smiled. “It’s okay, Jamie. You tried, and that’s all any of us could have done. I’ll join them all soon.” It’s smile faltered, “Could you… could you sing for me, like you did when you were young?”  
James’ sniffled, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”  
He cradled it a little closer, closed his eyes, and…   
“He rode through the streets of the city  
Down from his hill on high  
O’er the winds and the steps and cobbles  
He rode to a woman’s side  
For she was his secret treasure  
She was his shame and bliss  
And a chain and a keep are nothing  
Compared to woman’s kiss  
For hands of gold are always cold but a woman’s hands are warm  
For hands of gold are always cold but a woman’s hands are warm  
For hands of gold are always cold but a woman’s hands are warm…”  
It’s hand fell way from his cheek, as tear slid down it’s face.  
James softly lowered her to the ground, then looked up at Sebastian. Sebastian nodded, and made his way to the exit.  
James gently cradled it’s hand, “Not always warm.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Hawke!”   
James looked up from his honestly shitty whiskey, and gave a small smile to the dwarven storyteller he was currently bunking with.  
“If it’s about the tab, I assure you, it went to a good cause.” James said, taking a sip of shitty whiskey number seven. He grimaced.  
Varric scoffed, “Getting drunk off your ass is a good cause, getting drunk off your ass with this shit, right before a business meeting? That’s the opposite of good.” Corff glared at Varric, and gestured to the gaggle of drunkards gathering around the bar who had begun to look suspiciously at their mugs.  
James snorted and tipped his mug to Corff. “Bad. That’s the word you're looking for. The opposite of good is bad.” He sighed and turned on his stool to look at Varric. “You never mentioned a business meeting before.”  
“That’s because I knew you’d disappear before they got here, and we need this job, Hawke.”  
James mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘James’. “You know me so well.” He paused to push a drunkard off his shoulder who had begun a merry rendition of ‘The Warden’. “Anyway, business hours are between now and a few weeks ago.” He downed the rest of his whiskey, “Looks like they missed their chance.” And so began the drunken shuffle to his couch/bed in Varric’s room.   
Varric sighed and walked over to keep him from falling over. “Look, it’s been weeks since you’ve done anything. At some point you’re going to have to get out there, and put in some work.” James continued to fight his way to safe ground. The dwarf shook his head. “Bodahn is wondering where you are, he’s worrying. Sandal’s confused, he doesn’t say enchantment much anymore, you’re starting to worry people.”  
James gave a side eyed glare, and Varric internally cheered. Once Hawke started glaring, you knew he was giving in. Two sighs later, a shaking Varric off, and a lazy step towards his couch, and he was turning to Varric. “Who are we meeting, you ugly tit?”  
Varric grinned. Hawke was back.


End file.
